


Sherlock: Reversal

by RestlessCancer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Family Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Friendship, Love, M/M, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-04-01 02:47:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 20,246
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4002913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RestlessCancer/pseuds/RestlessCancer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All John wanted was for Sherlock to go to bed- He never thought that he'd be putting him to bed for two years- and then staying in bed with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. To Put Sherlock to Bed

Location: 221B Baker Street.

Time: 1 am

Date: April 19th

 

“Sherlock!” John groans, heaving himself out of bed and walking out to the living room.

“What is it, John?” Sherlock asks absentmindedly, still attempting to successfully playing his

violin with two of its strings missing.

“Can’t you pick it up later when sleep is not supposed to be happening?” John yawns, rubbing

his face in frustration.

“No. I can’t sleep. I need something to tire my mind. This is the most effective way.” Sherlock  


answers simply, allowing another shrieking cord to echo from his violin.

“How about I make you some tea?”

“That would be very kind of you, John. We could try that as an alternative, I suppose.”

Sherlock accepts, still playing his poor violin. “However, I will continue with this method until

the tea is ready.”

John sighs and goes to the kitchen. He puts water in the kettle and sets it to boil. Meanwhile,

he takes a couple ibuprofen and gets out a couple tea cups and saucers. John taps a bit of

red clay-looking powder into Sherlock’s cup and sets the steeper atop the rim as the kettle

whistles. He takes the kettle and pours the tea through the steeper of Sherlock’s cup and then

his own before carefully carrying the two softly  ting -ing tea cups out to the living room. He sets

them down on the side table and sips at his while Sherlock finally puts down his violin, taking

to his tea quite well.

“Well, John, it seems you have done well, seeing as how I do feel quite lethargic. Did you by

chance put a crushed dose of melatonin in my tea?” Sherlock notes after a couple minutes.

“I confess I did put a sleeping aid in your tea. You need to give that poor violin a rest until we

can replace the busted strings.” John confesses, taking a last sip of his tea.

“I’m proud of you, John. You managed to blend it well enough that I took no notice until after

consumption.” Sherlock praises in his rather monotone way. “I believe I shall be retiring now

that the lethargy is settling in. Good night, John.”

“Good night, Sherlock.” John replies, a victorious grin spread across his face as Sherlock

closes his bedroom door.

After cleaning up the minor mess from the tea, John goes back to bed with a renewed sense

of sleepy pride. He chuckles to himself happily as he rolls onto his right side, facing the edge

of the bed, and tucks his right arm under his pillow. He promptly falls into an easy, recovering

sleep.


	2. Side Effects

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Molly tried her best to help, but John still ended up in a huge mess.

_“I need your help.” John stated bluntly, placing his hands on the lab table across from Molly._

_“Whatever with, John?” She asks, cringing after smacking her forehead against her microscope, quite surprised at her sudden visitor. She was so engrossed in her work she hadn’t heard him come in._

_“Sherlock.”_

_“How am I supposed to help with him? He never lets anyone help him…” Molly points out._

_“I never said he was to know about this.” John adds,  his eyes tired and desperate._

_“Are you sure we can do this? Sherlock is brilliant- albeit a bit of a prat at times, but wouldn’t he figure it out?” She questions._

_“That’s why I’m coming to you. You can do things I can’t that will be harder for him to catch onto. In fact, he’ll be so busy trying to figure out what I’ve done and how, he’ll far more amused than pissed.” John answers._

_“Well, I did just receive a small sample shipment of compounds… But what is it you want to do?” Molly inquires, discarding her gloves in the nearest wastebasket._

_“All I want is for Sherlock to go to bed. He’s been driving me and poor Mrs. Hudson up a wall playing his violin to the point that he’s broken at least two strings. Is there some sort of melatonin like compound that’s strong enough to get him to go to bed? Perhaps something I could slip in his tea or something?” John explains, sitting on the stool and searching the ceiling with his eyes as if it had some secret to tell him._

_“I believe I have the perfect thing. The right dose could bring down even the most tolerant person alive, possibly even an elephant if given a high enough dose.” Molly states, quickly walking over to the small boxes and shuffling through their contents to find the compound before it slipped her memory what it was called and which box it was placed in._

_“Really? And it will make Sherlock sleep? Is it safe?” John wonders aloud, quickly joining her and peering over her shoulder._

_“Ah, here it is, doxyhydramine. It is a sleep aid I just got my hands on. I’ve only heard positive reports on this one. It’s all the rave for the world of sleep aids.” Molly explains, handing a small baggy of a red-clay looking powder to John. “It’s color should blend right into the tea too.”_

_“Molly, you are brilliant. I owe you one.” John commends, kissing her cheek before dashing off with a sudden burst of energy._

 

John awakens around 8 am to an infant’s cries. Wondering if they have a visitor- knowing that Sherlock gets clients at nearly any hour and the variety was really astonishing- John gets out of bed and wanders into the living room to find no one there. As his sleepy mind awakens, he realizes the sound is coming from Sherlock’s room. Curious and confused, John enters Sherlock’s bedroom to find a baby laying in his friend’s bed. Since when was there a baby in Sherlock’s bed and where the devil is Sherlock? The baby cries louder and louder, shaking as it bawls. Upon closer inspection, John notices traits from Sherlock. The messy black hair, bright blue-gray eyes, pale skin, and remembers the baby pictures Mycroft had shown him of Sherlock.

“Oh Bugger…” John breathes. “Sherlock? Sherlock, is that you?”

Realizing he wasn’t going to get an answer from an infant, John shakes his head and pulls himself together. He takes a small pillowcase from the shelf of the nightstand and pulls some pins from the drawer- Sherlock always kept things ready should he need to make a quick trap or escape. Sometimes he actually liked to play with the pins and poke his finger tips with sharp ends of them. He diapers baby Sherlock and swaddles him up, proceeding to take the baby in his arms. To his surprise, just holding the baby was enough to make him stop crying and go back to sleep. John looks in wonder at his baby friend as finds himself wiping the tears from the infant’s face and kissing his cheek before bouncing the little one in his arms.

John walks out to the living room and takes his cell phone in hand, dialing Molly.

“Hello?” Molly answers after the second ring.

“Molly, what was in that powder you gave me?” John questions as calmly as possible, his heart beat racing in his chest, which causes baby Sherlock to awaken and begin sobbing all over again at the sense of distress in his caregiver. “Oh, no, no, shhh, Sherlock. It’s alright! Go back to sleep please!”

“Bugger…Shit...” Molly breathes over the line. “Um, I may have given you the wrong compound, John… See, there’s the droxyhydramine and the diphenlamine and they look a lot alike… They’re both sleep aids, but the diphenlamine was meant to be youthening sleep agent that was supposed to help reverse signs of aging to a point and that one’s untested thus far… They both have the same bases, but the diphenlamine has a little extra to it, which is why they look alike....”

“Hang on, what? Are you saying you mixed the two up and gave me the youthening sleep agent and now my best friend and partner is a helpless infant?” John clarifies, still bouncing the bawling baby in his arms.

“Tha-that’s exactly what I’m saying…” Molly timidly admits, vocally cringing over the phone.

“Right… So can you reverse it?” John asks hopefully.

“No, I mean, I can’t yet because Sherlock is the first to use it and now I have to disect the compound to figure out what can counteract it…” Molly answers, unsure of herself.

“Alright. Let me know when you find something.”

“I will and John, you should know that if I can’t reverse it, it will take at least a year for Sherlock grow back to his former self.” Molly informs him. “I am so sorry, John!”


	3. How to Care for Baby Sherlock

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John calls Sherlock's blood enemy for advice on how to care for the infant.

The line goes dead and John dials Mycroft.

“Mycroft Holmes. How may I be of service, John?” Mycroft answers. “John, is that a baby I hear?”

“Yeah, about that, it’s your brother. Sherlock was inadvertantly a test subject to a youthening sleep agent and apparently youthening means turning a grown man into an infant and I’m callin you because he’s your brother and you were around him when he was a baby so you can tell me how to deal with him.” John explains, tensing further with the stress of having a crying infant in his arms.

“John, he’s really the easiest baby to please. The only thing is, he’s afraid to be a lone. You cannot set him down and walk away- not even if you’re still in his line of sight. He can sense distress and similar emotions much easier than most babies and he can tell you’re tense right now and that’s what’s making him cry. Breathe, John.” Mycroft explains with an amused chuckle.

John takes in this information and starts to relax. As he does, Sherlock quiets down and buries his face in John’s chest.

“See? Now I suggest you cure him as soon as possible and hope he never remembers anything of this experience because any memory of it will result in an escalation of murders. Goodbye, John.” Mycroft adds before hanging up.

“Well, I suppose you are an easy baby, though I know we’ll need to get you in a proper diaper and clothing. I guess we’re off to the shops then.” John comments as Sherlock takes to sucking on John’s finger. “But first, I need to get dressed. Let’s see if Mycroft was right about not holding you…”

John lays baby Sherlock down on his bed and starts to get dressed as Sherlock’s bottom lip is pushed out in a pout before breaking into tears and screaming. Feeling horrible at the sound of Sherlock’s cries, John quickens his pace and gently scoops the infant up into his arms.

“Shh, Sherlock. Shh, baby. It’s okay, I’ve got you, you’re not alone.” John soothes him, cradling baby Sherlock in his arms as if he were the most precious and delicate little thing ever in creation.

 


	4. Meeting Mrs. Hudson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mrs. Hudson checks on her flat tenants- only to be surprised by the appearance of one.

Soon, Sherlock quiets down, but not before attracting Mrs. Hudson’s attention. She knocks and enters as John kisses the infant’s forehead.

“Oh my, John… Since when did you have a baby?” Mrs. Hudson asks, coming over to get a look at the little angel.

“Um, well, it’s a long story, but uh he’ll be around for quite some time.” John answers, shifting Sherlock so he can’t see Mrs. Hudson anymore since he doesn’t seem to care for anyone other than him.

“Oh, well I like stories! Um, but do you have the baby’s things? You know, nappies, dummies, bottles and such?” Mrs. Hudson wonders, looking about the flat around her.

“Well, no, I actually was about to run out and pick up those things.” John confesses.

“Oh no need deary. I actually have all you’ll need. I originally picked it all up for the lovely mum to be I am going to be visiting next month for her baby shower, but I can always pick up more things after Sherlock pays this month’s rent.” Mrs. Hudson dismisses, with a sweet smile on her face. “You’re actually quite lucky, she’s supposed to have a baby boy so I have lots of baby boy’s clothes.”

Mrs. Hudson goes to leave, but pauses.

“John, dear, where is Sherlock?” She inquires, looking rather surprised.

“I’ll tell you when you get back.” John answers with an encouraging nod. “I need to get this little guy fed.”

“Oh, yes, of course! I’ll be right back.” She agrees, leaving to run downstairs.

A few trips later, the flat is filled with baby toys, diapers and clothes galore, a bassinette, a small old fashioned crib, bottles, a few pacifiers, tins of formula and a screaming baby. John gently puts a diaper on baby Sherlock and dresses him in a little sleeper gown while Mrs. Hudson prepares the infant’s bottle.

“Hey, now, you’re alright. Sh, it’s okay.” John comforts, taking little Sherlock back in his arms. “I’m still here. We just had to get a proper diaper and some clothes on you.”

“My, my, he certainly doesn’t like any sort of separation, does he?” Mrs. Hudson observes, bringing over a burp cloth and a lukewarm bottle.

“No, it’s obvious he has separation anxiety at its worst. Well, I suppose I better feed him.” John replies, taking the burp cloth over one shoulder and taking the bottle from Mrs. Hudson.

“Well, this seems as good a time as any to tell about the origins of this little sweetheart. Would you tell me about him, John?” Mrs. Hudson asks, settling into John’s usual arm chair as he settles into Sherlock’s.

“I suppose that would be a good idea and since you are the landlady for the flat you deserve to know what happened…” John admits in a quiet voice as Sherlock takes the teat of the bottle into his mouth and nurses it slowly. “You know how we were trying to convince Sherlock to relax and go to bed for the past few nights?”

“Oh, yes, he’s quite the hard one to put to sleep, but go on!” Mrs. Hudson encourages.

“Well, the other day, I went to see Molly at the lab. I asked her if she had any ideas to help. I told her that I was hoping to use a natural sedative on Sherlock to calm his nerves, but that we knew Sherlock has a high tolerance for just about everything. So Molly searched through a new shipment of compounds, medicines and other things, until she came across what was supposed to be the newest and most effect sleep aid, doxyhydramine. So I thanked her and brought it back to the flat and when Sherlock was still playing at 1 am this morning, I made him a cup of tea and put just a bit of the the powder in his tea.” John explains, pausing to take the fussing baby Sherlock and lay him over his (John’s) shoulder to burp the little one until he starts fussing for his bottle back. “Are you following so far, Mrs. Hudson?”

“Yes, dear.” Mrs. Hudson assures with a warm smile.

“Well Sherlock drank it and noticed I had added something, which is when he figured out that I put a sleeping aid in it. He wasn’t angry or anything, he thought it was clever. He said he felt lethargic and that’s about the time we both went to bed. Now, as it turns out, there’s another sleep aid that’s the same thing essentially but it has an additive that is supposed to rid one of minor signs of aging, a youthening sleep supplement if you will-”

“Oh, I think I’d do well with just a pinch of that in my tea.” Mrs. Hudson jokes with a small giggle.

“Honestly, it’s not at all what it’s supposed to be. It turns out that the youthening sleep agent is what Molly gave me to slip in Sherlock’s tea because the two look the same in their powdered form. As you can see, it reduces age and not aging.” John finishes, burping Sherlock once more before laying him back in his (John’s) lap to finish the bottle.

“What? A little bit of powder turned Sherlock into the baby you’re holding?” Mrs. Hudson questions, a great of shock and confusion apparent in her tone and on her face.

“Yes and that’s why I have a baby today and if Molly doesn’t find a reversal cure for him soon, it may take a year or more for him to grow back into his old self at his proper age.” John clarifies, burping Sherlock one last time before he can fall asleep on him.

“Well, if you need anything, don’t hesitate to let me know, John. I will admit that what i would like is to hold him… He looks so sweet and darling.” Mrs. Hudson confesses.

“You can give it a try but I haven’t found that he likes leaving my arms since I picked him up this morning- which is the reason for all the crying you’ve heard.” John warns her, letting take the sleepy baby Sherlock into her arms.

Sherlock stretches a bit and clumsily rubs his eyes with his tiny fists, his head lolling to the side to look at the one holding him. Upon discovering Mrs. Hudson instead of John, the infant’s bottom lip puffs out and his eyes begin to water as he begins to scream and cry.

“Sherlock, sh, it’s alright, it’s just Mrs. Hudson.” John soothes, stroking Sherlock’s hair to no avail as the infant bawls harsher and louder.

“It’s alright, deary, you can take him back. He’s got a special bond with you, John. It’s natural he doesn’t want to be separated.” Mrs. Hudson assures him, settling Sherlock back into John’s arms. “You take good care of our little genius, John. He’s going to need a good daddy.”

Mrs. Hudson smiles watching John naturally begin to soothe to scared infant. After Sherlock is calmed down Mrs. Hudson moves to the door.

“Why don’t you take the little darling for a walk, John?” Mrs. Hudson suggests, one hand holding the door open.

“I will, but Mrs. Hudson, let’s not speak of this to anyone. Mycroft and Molly are the only other ones that know and I’d like it to stay that way- for Sherlock’s sake…” John replies, gently swaying with Sherlock sucking on his (John’s) thumb.

“Of course, dear.” Mrs. Hudson agrees as she leaves.


	5. Learning Baby's Ways

“Alright, Sherlock, let’s take you for a stroll, though I don’t think we’ll be needing the stroller… It’s a good thing Mrs. Hudson also purchased a baby sling or neither of us would get anything out of this.” John says, throwing the sling over his head like a messenger bag’s strap and settling Sherlock in it. “I know you’ll hate me for this, but we’re going to see your brother.”

Sherlock yawns, completely disinterested as he takes John’s thumb into his mouth. John smirks and shakes his head in disbelief that the great Sherlock Holmes was nothing more than a scared, anxious, and loving premature-looking infant.

“You would kill me for seeing you as a helpless and scared little infant. It’s a good thing you’re not  entirely yourself.” John comments, packing a messenger bag full of pre-made bottles, diapers, wipes, toys and extra clothes. “You’d also kill me for taking you anywhere near your brother.”

Sherlock stares up at John in full pout as John puts the bag across his body and locks up the flat from the outside. Within minutes of John making it downtown and watching for a cab to hail, Sherlock begins to bawl with streams of tears pouring out of his eyes. John tries everything he had done earlier, from bouncing to swaying to trying to feed the displeased infant again. John tries to give Sherlock a pacifier that is quickly rejected.

“I honestly don’t know what you want, love.” John confesses as he gets in a cab that stopped for him. “You don’t like anything I’ve tried to do and you’ve not soiled yourself yet… What have I missed?”

Sherlock starts to bawl louder after John gives the driver the address to Mycroft’s residence. John continues to try and soothe the poor baby, stroking his hair out of his face until finally the little one captures John’s index finger and calms down.

“So that’s all you wanted, eh?” John observes, with a smirk and a chuckle as the taxi pulls up to the door of Mycroft’s manor.

John exits the taxi after paying the driver, walks up to the door, and knocks. After a minute or so, Mycroft escorts John to the sitting room. A large room with a blazing fireplace, a large persian rug, plush and leather arm chairs, an elegant and antique coffee table, and very detailed, high quality paintings hung on the surrounding walls. Sherlock starts to fuss and John takes him out of the sling rests the infant against his chest while he checks the little one’s diaper.

“So, how’s life as a parent, John? Tea?” Mycroft officially greets with a dark chuckle.

“If I didn’t want your advice, I’d tell you to shut it.” John replies, glaring in Mycroft’s direction before turning his gaze back to baby Sherlock as he lays the infant in his lap and proceeds to change the crying child’s diaper while cooing at him in softer tone. “Sh, sh, sh, it’s alright. We’ll make it all better, won’t we? Yes, we will.”

“Oh, I do enjoy this. By the way, if he’s anything like he was the first time he was a baby and growing up, you can expect to be buying diapers until he’s eight. Bloody bad nightmares he’s always had- especially with the bullying he went through, even when I intervened.” Mycroft adds, sipping his tea while watching John readjust the infant gown and lay Sherlock in his arms, allowing the baby to suck on his caretaker’s index finger once again.

“I’m sure you’re exaggerating.” John responds, rubbing little Sherlock’s back.

“I promise you that I am not. just look at the photobooks.” Mycroft assures him. picking up one of the antique looking photobooks and showing John the various chronological pages, each displaying a different age for Sherlock, each of the first 8 pages showing at least one photo where Sherlock was definitely getting changed from one diaper to another. “You see, Sherlock was only able to grow up after Mother died when he was nine because she babied him so terribly believing that as long as he had his little accidents then he needed to remain in diapers- however, the reality was that she desired another baby but could no longer conceive due to the appearance of ovarian cancer.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. Sherlock’s never said a word on it.” John apologizes, almost feeling guilty for his rudeness towards Mycroft.

“Naturally. If he had, he would have had to admit that he, the world’s most brilliant mind, was in diapers for eight years of his life. If you ever thought he would confess that and live it down with his pride intact, you are thoroughly mistaken.” Mycroft explains, tweaking his baby brother’s nose, which makes the infant cry. “Sorry, I couldn’t resist- old habits die hard you know.”

“Apparently. Do it again and I will cut off your hand and sew it back on at the first sign of infection.” John threatens, already quite exhausted and thoroughly upset by Sherlock’s cries as he bounces baby Sherlock ever so gently while cooing at him. “There, there, buddy, it’s alright. I won’t let big brother pick on you.”

Sherlock moves from crying to bawling in a manner of seconds.

“Sh, sh, sh, baby, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” John soothes, standing up and pacing while bouncing the infant in his arms which only stifles the bawling back down to crying.

John sits back down, cradling Sherlock in his arms and kissing his forehead.

“Sh, baby, sh… It’s okay… I’m right here. You’re not alone, baby, be still.” John comforts, rocking baby Sherlock in his arms, which finally seems to do the trick.

“You know, he’s not as much of a baby as one might think. He knows what alone is and he knows it’s not what he wants. He understands when you tell him that he isn’t a lone. He’s always liked being called ‘baby,’ because it reminds him of Mother. Even though he resented being in diapers after he was four, he loved her dearly because she was always right there to make everything better.” Mycroft divulges. “Just like you’re doing for him, John… It’s no wonder he bawls his eyes out when you’re out of his reach.”

John thinks about this as he kisses Sherlock’s forehead and gives the baby his finger to suck, which the infant quickly takes advantage of.

“Do like it when I call you baby?” John coos, testing out Mycroft’s ‘fun fact’ in case it yields positive results.

Sherlock coos back at John and kicks his little legs.

“Ask him if he loves you, John.” Mycroft encourages.

“Do you love me, Sherlock… Baby?” John asks, obliging Mycroft.

Baby Sherlock coos and smiles, opening and closing his tiny hands towards John.

“Ask him without calling him baby.”

“Sherlock, do you love me?” John questions, watching his baby best friend and flatmate.

The infant clutches John’s hand and coos more timidly, flushing and smiling.

“I told you, John. Just like Mother. She’s the only one he’s ever done that for before now.” Mycroft informs John, with a soft and fleeting affectionate smile.

“Right… Well, I should get him back to the flat so he’ll take a nap. Thanks for the advice, Mycroft.” John replies slowly, coming out of his thoughts as he nestles a yawning baby Sherlock back into the sling.

“It was my pleasure, John. Despite the impression he and I may give, we do still have the capacity to love and I do love my brother however much I torment him. He loves more than anyone, though his personality doesn’t allow him to understand emotions nor how to use or deal with them. He was free until he got older. That’s when his social problems fully blossomed making him the most brilliant and lonely mind.” Mycroft tells him, walking him to the front door.

“I always knew he wasn’t letting everything on…” John sighs with a sad smile as he looks down at baby Sherlock. “Are you ready to go bye-bye, baby?”

At this, Sherlock giggles, spitting on himself and John’s hand, and kicks his little legs happily.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” John notes, smiling tiredly. “Did he sleep through the night?”

“Oh yes. He’ll nap for a better part of the day. The issues are getting him to eat and getting him to let you change his diaper- especially if you don’t want a fuss.” Mycroft assures him, smiling briefly. “I hope all goes well. Goodbye, John.”

“Goodbye, Mycroft. Thanks again.” John calls as he flags down an unoccupied cab and gets in, careful to make sure Sherlock doesn’t bump his little head or anything.


	6. Bathing Baby

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Baby Sherlock loves bath time with Daddy John, but peek-a-boo is a no-no.

Once home, John takes baby Sherlock out of the sling, discarding it on the couch with the diaper bag. Sherlock squirms and cries, pissed off about being woken up during his nap.

 

“I know, I know, Sherlock. Mean ol’ John had to wake you up to change your diaper.” John coos, laying Sherlock on a baby blanket on the floor. “Sh, sh, sh, baby. I’m only trying to make you feel better.”

 

John forgoes putting a clean diaper on Sherlock, takes the gown off of him, cuddles the infant to his chest and takes the little one into the bathroom, starting the water in the tub to fill it only a few inches.

 

“Well, you haven’t had a bath in awhile, baby.” John reminds the infant, testing the water before turning the faucet off and laying Sherlock in the tub- which earns him flailing and screeching, not to mention a panicked visit from Mrs. Hudson.

 

“John! Dear, what are you doing?” Mrs. Hudson questions, motioning for him to take baby Sherlock out of the water.

 

“I thought I was giving Sherlock a bath…” John answers, looking quite perplexed as he cuddles Sherlock to his chest and turns to Mrs. Hudson.

 

“John, you have to get in the tub and hold the baby while you bathe him, dear. It’s the safest way to bathe a baby that young.” Mrs. Hudson instructs, crossing her arms in gentle disapproval.

 

“I honestly did not know that…” John admits. “I will do it that way if it’s safer.”

 

“I should hope so. I’ll leave you to it then. I’ve got chores to finish.” Mrs. Hudson remarks, smiling knowingly and caressing baby Sherlock’s  chubby little cheek. “It’s okay, darling, daddy’s still learning.”

 

With that Mrs. Hudson sighs in relief and leaves, the front door clicking just loud enough for John to hear.

 

“I’m sorry, Sherlock, I’m just a military doctor, I’m not a daddy.” John apologizes to the infant who goes, once again, from crying to bawling in a manner of a second.

 

John lays Sherlock on the plush bath mat and thinks about what could’ve caused this transition. Sherlock hadn’t liked it when John called him “buddy” or referred to him by his first name… Of course he also doesn’t like not being held- especially when it comes to him (John). Thinking about what Mycroft said about how Sherlock is more sensitive and bright than most babies, John realizes that saying he isn’t a daddy might have upset his baby flatmate. After stripping down to nothing, John stands up and takes baby Sherlock in his arms.

“Sh, baby. I am a daddy, I’m your daddy, baby.” John soothes, climbing into the tub, settling in, and laying Sherlock back against his thighs.

 

Sherlock seems pleased with this as he starts to quiet down and sniffle, shuddering as he tries regain his breath. John smiles softly at the infant and rubs the tip of his nose to Sherlock’s. He feels Sherlock’s tiny hands gently smack his (John’s) cheeks and shakes his head before cradling Sherlock in his arms. He takes handfuls of water and slowly dampens Sherlock’s messy black baby curls and his tiny pale body. The little one giggles and coos, smiling his toothless grin up at John as John gently rubs baby soap on the infant’s delicate skin. John smirks and shakes his head as he lays baby in his lap and slowly rinses the little one off. Sherlock’s bottom lip sticks out and quivers and John takes the infant back in his arms, rocking him gently.

 

“Sh, baby, it’s okay. You’ll never be alone. I know you can’t be. I’m right here.” John soothes, kissing Sherlock’s cheeks. “There, there, baby. You’re not alone.”

 

Sherlock coos pitifully, nearly breaking John’s fragile heart. In all his years with Sherlock, he was nearly convinced that Sherlock just hated him pure and simple. When they were in Baskerville, Sherlock had used him as a lab rat without his permission. John was only really pissed off because he cared for Sherlock and couldn’t believe- or rather just hated- the fact that Sherlock found him of better use as a lab rat than a friend and co-conspirator. Now, John realizes that Mycroft had been telling the truth because no one, not even Sherlock, could go from being such a loving and attached baby to complete ass and not retain the qualities they started with. All this time, Sherlock probably had some sort of friendly love for John that he didn’t know what to do with or why he needed to do anything with it.

 

“That’s right, baby. I’m never gonna leave you alone, even when you get to be a big boy and think you want to be.” John reassures, kissing baby’s cheeks and returning to shampooing the baby’s hair. “You’ll never be alone, baby.”

 

John could feel warmth spreading through his body along with a tingling sensation, signs that could only mean he was becoming the very daddy Mrs. Hudson- even Sherlock- already thought him to be. John finishes washing up baby Sherlock and climbs out of the tub, grabbing Sherlock’s special extra soft and fluffy towel from the wire towel rack across from the tub. John walks through to his bedroom, grabbing his clothes while bouncing baby all swaddled up in a fluffy navy towel in his arms. He dresses himself with one hand, much to Sherlock’s amusement as the baby gurgles and coos, starting to giggle at the funny movements daddy John is making.

 

“Oh you like that, do you?” John teases, smiling as the infant with his own amusement after finally getting a plain tee on. “Well maybe I need to do that just for you then!”

 

John chuckles as he takes the little one for a ride out to the living room, spinning around, bending over, going fast and slowing down, and all the while making sound effects as if they were on some sort of trolly turned airplane turned superhero. Through all of this, baby Sherlock giggles and gurgles excitedly, spitting on himself and drooling on John.

 

“Is baby ready to land?” John asks, walking in slow motion as he comes closer to the baby blanket where he usually changes and dresses his now baby flatmate. “Ready? Whooosh!”

 

John starts to lower Sherlock down to the blanket, gently swinging him a little from one side to the other, until the infant is lying, shrieking happily at his caregiver, on his back on the blanket covering the living room floor.

 

“Well, that’s something normal babies like. Does that mean that you also like things like peek-a-boo?” John wonders aloud, taking the towel off of baby, gently powdering his bottom before putting a clean diaper on the little one and covering him with the towel before pulling the towel down just enough for him and Sherlock to see each other. “Peek-a-boo!”

 

Baby Sherlock instantly starts to bawl and practically claw his sensitive skin with his tiny baby fingernails, not liking the quick change of pace of this particular game as he struggles to decide whether not seeing John meant he went bye-bye or not. John frowns and feels his insides clench up as if in sympathetic pains to baby’s distress. John picks up baby Sherlock and rocks him in his arms, deciding to sing to him to soothe him.

 

“LULLABY, little Love,

Slumber sweetly, slumber deep,

Though your cradle will not move,

I shall lull you, Child, to sleep. Do you hear the muffled storm sorrowing in brotherhood? Do you hear the hungry worm Ticking in the coffin wood? Slumber, Child, as I sing. Noughts is lacking; take your ease. Hark! your rattle's merry ring From the sprout between the trees! Now the nightingale for us hovers nearer, great with [song](http://barnesanger.wikispaces.com/Aladdins+vuggevise#) ; You may have lulled me often THUS, Now I lull you, slumber long. If your heart be not of flint, Mother, see what I can do! From this little elder splint I shall make a flute for you. I will [play](http://barnesanger.wikispaces.com/Aladdins+vuggevise#) for your delight With a soft, complaining tone,Like a wandering voice that night Through wet winter branches blown. Ah, but I must leave you here , For your arms are cold as snow, And I have no cottage near, Warm and bright, where I can go. Lullaby, then, little Love, Slumber sweetly, deep slumber, Though your cradle will not move, I shall lull you, Child, to sleep.”

 

(*song taken from <http://barnesanger.wikispaces.com/Aladdins+vuggevise>)

 

Baby Sherlock calms down and sniffles, clinging to daddy John, who kisses the top of the infant’s head, before laying him down and putting him in a navy sleeper gown made out plush fibers. John takes Sherlock back in his arms, and stands up, swaying with the little one.

 

“Shall we try another to actually get you to sleep?” John asks, shifting baby to lay cradled in his arms.

 

Baby Sherlock whines in response and grabs at the air between him and John’s face. John kisses the palms of his tiny hands and rests his forehead on baby’s.

 

“You were just a small bump unborn, in four months you're brought to life,

You might be left with my hair, but you'll have your mother's eyes,

I'll hold your body in my hands be as gentle as I can,

And now your scan on my unmade plans,

Small bump, in four months you're brought to life

I'll hold you tightly, I'll give you nothing but truth,

If you're not inside me, I'll put my [future](http://www.metrolyrics.com/small-bump-lyrics-ed-sheeran.html#) in you

You are my one, and only

You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight

Oh you are my one, and only

You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight

And you'll be alright.

You're just a small bump unknown and you'll grow into your skin

With a smile like hers and a dimple beneath your chin

(Oh) Finger nails the size of a half grain of rice

And eyelids closed to be soon opened wide a small bump,

In four months you'll [open](http://www.metrolyrics.com/small-bump-lyrics-ed-sheeran.html#) your eyes

I'll hold you tightly, I'll give you nothing but truth,

If you're not inside me, I'll put my future in you

You are my one, and only

You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight

Oh you are my one, and only

You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight

And you'll be alright

You can lie with me, with your tiny feet when your half asleep,

I'll leave you be

Right in front of me for a couple weeks

So I can keep you safe

'Cause you are my one, and only

You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight

Oh you are my one, and only

You can wrap your fingers round my thumb and hold me tight

And you'll be alright…” John sings, sitting on the couch and watching as the sleeping baby on his chest takes his (John’s) thumb in his mouth and sucks on it.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The second song is "Small Bump" by Ed Sheeran. The lyrics were copied from metrolyrics


	7. Baby's First Owie and First Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darling little Sherlock gets his first "owie" and finally says his first words <3

After a month of developing a routine that seems to please baby Sherlock, the routine is changed as Sherlock learns to crawl and stand up, reaching the one year age mark.

“Sherlock! Sit down this instant before you bump your head on that table.” John shouts dashing over to an already bawling Sherlock who had tried to follow daddy to get his bottle.

As John feared, Sherlock loses his grip and smacks his forehead on the coffee table, causing him to reach a shrieking level as he cries- with a surprise twist.

“DAHDAH!” Sherlock screeches, his tiny voice echoing through the flat as he lays on his tummy with hot tears streaming down his red cheeks.

“Sh, baby. I”ve got you.”  John soothes, picking Sherlock up with the bottle still in one hand. “It’s okay, dada’s here, baby.”

John can feel his heart beating violently in his chest in a mixture of shock, anguish, and pride as he sways with Sherlock gently held to his chest while he kisses the top of baby’s head. Sherlock hiccups and shakes in John’s arms, clutching his daddy’s shirt.

“Bahbah…” Sherlock sniffles, turning in John’s arms to poke the teat of the baby bottle in John’s hand.

“Only if you’re ready to go nigh-night, baby.” John says, kissing baby Sherlock’s cheek as he sits down in Sherlock’s favorite chair- a good distance from the coffee table.

“Bangey!” Sherlock pouts, seeing his favorite blanket on the back of John’s chair.

“Will you go nigh-night if I get your blanket?” John asks, brushing Sherlock’s unruly curls out of his face.

“Bangey!” Sherlock whines, his bottom lip sticking out like he could cry as it begins to quiver.

“I’ll take that as a yes, baby.” John says,  holding Sherlock close as he gets up and grabs the baby’s blanket and loosely wraps it around baby Sherlock. “All better?”

“Aaaahhh heee!” Sherlock coos, kicking excitedly and grabbing at the edges of the blanket.

John chuckles at the display and settles back into Sherlock’s favorite chair, tickling the happy baby as he giggles and tries to pull his legs up to stop his daddy’s tickling. Sherlock gurgles and spits on himself, paying no mind to it whatsoever as he grabs at the air between him and his daddy, his little lavender onesie stretching with him. John leans down and blows kisses on Sherlock’s cheek, making the little one shriek with delight and push at John’s face with his tiny hands. John laughs and grabs the bottle from the side table, watching as Sherlock opens his mouth wide, ready to eat, and puts the teat in the baby’s mouth. John hums softly as Sherlock drinks the bottle, his little tummy expanding like a balloon to fit all of the nourishment in it. Two-thirds of the way through his bottle, Sherlock releases the teat from his mouth with heavy eyes and yawns.

“Nigh-night time, baby.” John whispers, slowly getting up and going to lay Sherlock in his crib.

Sherlock’s eyes fill with tears and cries the saddest cries he ever has.

“Waaaaaahhhh! Aaaaahhh! Daaaaaaah Daaaaaaahhh!” Sherlock sobs, his little body tensing and curling up as he repeatedly grabs and flings the edges of his “bangey.”

John smiles softly, rolling his eyes, and takes Sherlock back in his arms, ensuring the little one’s blanket is still wrapped loosely about him. He sways and hums to baby until the tears stop when he lays down on the couch with Sherlock on his chest and continues to hum as baby falls asleep in his arms, once again sucking on John’s thumb.

“I love you, baby…” John whispers, kissing the top of Sherlock’s head.

Baby Sherlock, already mostly asleep squeezes his daddy’s thumb as if to make sure John knows he heard and loves him too.


	8. John Hates Everyone- Except Baby <3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John and Sherlock try to go to the park. Who would hurt a one year old? THE MEDIA. The Media makes Sherlock cry because they're all blundering idiots looking for a dirty tabloid :>

The day after Sherlock got his first “owie” as the pair had deemed it, John decides to take Sherlock to the park to meet some of the other little  ones, deciding that it couldn’t possibly hurt anything at his age- who would bully a one year old?

“Sherlock, baby, do you wanna go to the park?” John asks, attempting to change baby Sherlock’s diaper as the little one tries to roll over and crawl away.

Sherlock scrunches his face up and tilts his head to the side, putting his little fingers in his mouth.

“You can play more at the park. There’s sandboxes and swings- and other little ones your age and a little older too.” John tells him, wiping the little one’s bottom and sliding a clean diaper under him, fanning his bottom with the front of the diaper to prevent a rash.

Sherlock whines a little, whether in objection to the park idea or the cold air on his bum, John is unsure. After he’s sure the little one’s bottom is dry, he fastens the diaper in place and re-buttons the periwinkle body suit, slipping his little elastic waisted jeans back up and putting a little sweat gray zip up hooded sweater on him as well as a little pair tennis shoes and socks.

“I think we’ll go to the park today.” John says, putting the diaper bag across his chest and picking Sherlock up before tucking the stroller under his free arm and hiking everything down the stairs. “It’ll be fun, baby.”

John locks the stroller into position, tucks the diaper bag in the little caddy below the stroller’s seat, and then buckles Sherlock in. John turns back to the door and locks the handle and the deadbolt before tucking his keys into pocket and pushing the stroller down the street to the park.

He notices the way people watch him- the ones who know him as the great Holmes’ partner or perhaps just sidekick and lab rat.- and the way their eyes question what the amazing John Watson, an unmarried former military doctor and cooperative in a case consulting pair, is doing pushing a baby stroller with a child that looks nothing like him. Sherlock watches the people behind his daddy nervously, whining as they closer to the park and the other parents are more bold about outright staring at the two. John stops at a playground where a young brunette is sitting on a bench in flowery, summer-looking maxi-dress with plain sandals and a backpack that has Harry Potter on it. Next to her is a slightly younger redhead with light freckles dusting her pale skin wearing a rich green blouse and  knee-length blue jean skirt with a pair flowery thongs (flip flops) and little pink backpack. On the playground equipment are two little girls and three little boys. two of the boys and one of the girls looks like the brunette while the other boy and girl look like the redhead. The boys are climbing all around while the girls are swinging on the swings.. John parks the stroller between the two benches along the side of the playground and spreads a blanket out on the grass. He sits down and unfastens baby Sherlock and lays him on his tummy upon the blanket, spreading a few of his favorite toys on the blanket- a stuffed kitten, a rattle full of sparkling beads, some blocks, and the little one’s “bangey.” Sherlock whines and crawls into John’s lap and clings to his shirt. John picks him up and cuddles him, stroking his hair until he calms baby Sherlock down.

“Here, let’s stand.” John says, holding Sherlock under his arms and helping him stand and get his footing before loosening his grip ever so slightly. “Look at you, big boy!”

Sherlock glances at the women on the bench whispering to each other while eying the two of them and whines as he looks back to John, grabbing at the air between them. John holds Sherlock and rubs his back.

“What’s the matter, baby? Are you still sleepy from your nap? You certainly didn’t take a long one today…” John coos, rocking the little one ever so slightly.

“Excuse me, but aren’t you John Watson?” The redhead asks, turning towards.

“Yes, and you are?” John responds, not meaning to sound rude.

“My name is Kendra Sparks. Aren’t you Sherlock Holmes partner?” She clarifies.

“Yes, but I don’t understand where you’re going with this.” John answers, bouncing a fussy baby Sherlock.

“I knew it! I told you, Kelsi, I told you they were a thing. And that little cutie just has to be their baby- they probably used a surrogate… I wonder if I should use a surrogate next time…” Kendra comments excitedly prattling on to her friend, who’s apparently named Kelsi.

“Hang on, I thought you meant partner as in co-worker, not boyfriend. And he isn’t the product of Sherlock, a surrogate, and me.” John stops her.

“Oh, I meant boyfriend. But, does that mean you two aren’t romantically together?” Kendra wonders aloud.

“No. We aren’t at all romantically involved and we never have been. Not to mention, as delightful as having a child can be, he’s not mine- certainly not mine and my co-worker’s.” John clears up, cradling Sherlock in his arms and rocking him from side to side.

“Oh…. Then… Who are you babysitting for and how do you have time?” Kendra questions after giving Kelsi the death glare for laughing at how wrong her friend turned out to be.

“Jesus, Mary and Joseph… Can’t a guy just take the child he’s caring for out to the park in peace?” John questions, tucking Sherlock’s toys back in the diaper bag and throwing the blanket back in too before getting to his feet.

“So the baby’s definitely not yours?” Kelsi questions, seeming to hope she’s wrong.

“I never said that.” John passively dismisses, nuzzling Sherlock as he sways from side to side.

“Then that means he has to be yours.” Kendra points out, looking at Kelsi for agreement to see her friend nodding.

“Never said that either. In fact, I think we’ll be going now.” John says, leaving without even putting baby Sherlock back in the stroller and turning to coo at the little one in his arms. “I’m so sorry, baby. I am your daddy, but daddy couldn’t tell them or you’d never sleep again.”

Hearing this not only calms Sherlock down, but also draws a ton of reporters as John is halfway home.

“John! John!”

“Mr. Watson!”

“Over here, Watson!”

“Smile for the front page, John!”

“John, is it true that you and Sherlock homes are a couple and that is your love child through surrogate Sophia Moorian?”

The reporters flood and swallow John and Sherlock, TV cameras and boom mics, and flash photography drowning them in over exposure before all the telephoto lenses. Sherlock bawls and clings John, tears running in waterfalls and snot beginning to trickle from his little nose and he anxiously gums his own fist.

“NO! None of the rumors are true! I’m a foster parent! Sherlock is out of town because he hates you people and you’re scaring the devil out of my poor baby! Get out of the way, you story mongering bastards!” John shouts, pushing his way through the thick crowd of reporters as a squad car pulls up and Detective Lestrade steps out.

“ALRIGHT! THAT’S ENOUGH! GO BACK TO YOUR OFFICES! JUST GO SOMEWHERE ELSE BUT LEAVE THE POOR MAN ALONE!” Lestrade commands, yelling in a very “be gone Satan” manner. “YOU’RE DISTURBING THE PEACE!”

The reporters disperse grumbling all the while that they couldn’t squeeze more out of the nearly famous John Watson about the glamorous lives of the consulting duo.

“Thanks, Lestrade, I owe you one, but please, let’s not make it the answers to why I’m with child and where Sherlock is.” John thanks the detective, being careful about how much of a stretch Lestrade can take with what he’s owed.

“Personally, though I’m curious, I’d rather not know. I know more about you and Holmes than I ever wanted to. Moriarty is rumored to be making a comeback and it’s impossible to tell what he’ll do or when he’ll do it. Just get Sherlock back here as soon as you can.” Lestrade dismisses, walking back to the squad car. “Take care, John.”

“Will do, Detective.” John responds, bouncing baby Sherlock and holding to his chest. “Sh, sh, sh, Sherlock. Daddy’s got you and everyone else is bye-bye. Be still, baby.”

Everyone except the one who needs the advantage the most, sporting a clever disguise as the neighborhood postman. 


	9. Smiley, Teething, and Mycroft the Prat

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John utilizes Mycroft's knowledge of baby Sherlock once again- much to his dismay and discovers another stressor along the way.

John arrives back at the flat, still carrying Sherlock, unlocks the door and drags the stroller up the stairs, the door automatically bouncing back to close itself. He enters the flat, leaving the stroller just inside the door after it’s closed, lays Sherlock on the couch and strips his own coat and shoes. Then, he gently slips Sherlock’s little shoes off, unzipping his tiny sweater and slipping his arms out, earning him a very fussy baby Sherlock.

“Hey, lookie, baby!” John soothes, taking Sherlock’s favorite rattle from the stroller and waving it in front of him. “What’s all that about, eh? What are those made of? Looks like the universe in space, doesn’t it?’

Sherlock quiets down, babbling a bit in frustration as he takes the rattle and shakes it up watching with keen eyes the way the little beads glimmer and cling inside the clear, cool orb on a stick. John slips Sherlock’s pants off and unbuttons the onesie, just knowing the baby had destroyed his formerly clean diaper during the attack of the reporters., tucking the onesie up out of the way, unfastening the diaper and shaking his head as he sees the horrendous mess baby Sherlock made in his diaper.

“You made quite the mess down here, baby.” John teases, cleaning the little one’s bottom and rolling the dirty wipes up with the dirty diaper. “Yucky, very yucky, it’s no wonder you’re a little stinker!”

Sherlock, seemingly frustrated, upset or some combination of the two, tosses the rattle so that it hits the coffee table, slides across, and hits the floor, crying all the while and practically hitting himself in the face with his itty bitty fists as he pulls his legs up over his bare tummy and shifts uncomfortably.

“Sherlock. No-no! Don’t do that! You’ll hurt yourself baby.” John gently scolds, gently pushing the baby’s legs apart so he can fasten the clean diaper on and then buttoning the onesie back up. “None of that now, love.”

Sherlock escalates to sobbing, still trying to hit his mouth and starting to shove his hands in mouth and pull at his jaw. John picks Sherlock up and bounces him, trying to position the little one so he can’t get his hands near his face. Desperate for an answer and help, John grabs the little boy’s “bangey,” wraps him up in it, and grabs the diaper bag before rushing out of the flat, slipping on a small stack of letters that he picks up and takes with him. John hails a cab and tells the driver to rush to Mycroft Holmes’ estate, promising to pay extra if they make it there in ten minutes. On the ride over, he continues to soothe Sherlock as best he can, opening an odd-looking letter and pulling out a note typed and set in a lucida font reading:

_Tell Baby Sherlock Uncle Jim is coming for a visit._

“Oh my god…” John mumbles, shoving the letter and the other pieces of mail in the diaper bag as he pays the cab driver and slips out, running up the steps to Mycroft’s.

John bangs relentlessly on the door, panic gripping his throat and chest, until Mycroft finally opens the door. John hurries inside and bounces baby Sherlock in his arms, panic-pacing through the sitting room.

“John, will you sit down!” Mycroft chastises, watching the man pace back and forth like a pissed off wolf, freshly caged and completely tense.

“I don’t understand what’s wrong with Sherlock and now Moriarty knows about Sherlock being a baby and ‘is coming for a visit!’ How am I supposed to calm down?” John snaps, bouncing Sherlock a little more frantically until he finds that baby Sherlock throwing up all over him. “Oh god! Shit!’

“Well that certainly didn’t help a damn thing, did it John? And I never told you to calm down- I told you to sit down!” Mycroft snaps back, shoving John onto the antique love seat. “How old is Sherlock now? A year?”

“Yes, he’s a year and three days.” John confirms as Mycroft helps clean him and Sherlock up- though mostly John since the target seemed to be the shoulder of John’s horrendous tan sweater.

“What’s he doing- besides knocking himself in the head the with coffee table since his brain functions are keener than his body?” Mycroft asks, tossing the rag on a fancy but simple side table.

“He’s hitting himself in the face- he nearly poked his own eye out 15 minutes ago.” John explains, starting force himself to steady his breathing and calm down as he takes to rubbing Sherlock’s back rhythmically and as lightly as if he did so with a bird’s feather.

“Oh, poor John.” Mycroft chuckles, shaking his head as he sits on the coffee table facing the two. “He’s teething. Sherlock had a very low pain tolerance as a baby- he had always been very sensitive in multiple ways but as he got older he learned to shut it all out. Just freeze some wet washcloths and let him have at it. That will numb up his gums and give you some quiet time. You can also give him sips from his bottle every now and then but you should start feeding him baby cereal and whatnot now that he’s getting his teeth.”

“Teething? He’s teething, and that’s all?” John demands, not so sure about why a baby would punch himself in the face to deal with such a thing. “He isn’t doing some sort of uniquely Sherlock self-abuse thing I should be worried about?”

“Heavens, no, John! He may be keen for his age but he’s still a baby.” Mycroft laughs, shaking his head at the distraught man before him. “What you should be worried about is Moriarty. I’ve been keeping an eye on him, but he’s hard to follow. He’s like Austin Powers but when he buggers up it’s on purpose and usually too hard to prosecute. You can’t leave Sherlock alone for even a second.”

“Not that the little stinker would let me anyhow.” John points out. “He starts bawling the second I lay him in his crib. If I try to lay him down anywhere but my lap when I change his diaper, he fusses. If he weren’t hitting at my soft spots, I’d be incredibly pissed and annoyed.”

“Oh, he’ll get to you soon enough. Trust me.” Mycroft warns.

“I dunno, I’ve lived with him for a few years now.”

“Yes, but you are only just getting the full experience of dealing with him as a whiny, fussy, clingy little child and his horrible adolescent stage.” Mycroft comments. “Oh the joys that await you.”

John rolls his eyes doubting that anything is worse than the two versions of Sherlock he’s dealt with so far- a downright git of an adult and a leech- albeit a damned cute and sweet (at times) leech.

“Well, I better get him home and get those little rag things made while he eats his supper.” John announces, getting to his feet and shouldering the diaper bag before he leaves Mycroft’s estate once more.

“Alright, well, try to keep calm and remember that even though he’s keen, he’s still just a baby.” Mycroft accepts, tweaking his baby brother’s nose again but holding onto it and shaking it a bit. “You give that poor man a rest or you won’t have a daddy any more.”

To that, baby Sherlock screeches, his cries escalating in volume and pitch. John flinches and cringes, giving Mycroft the finger as they reach the front door.

“Thanks for that, you bloody prat. I can see why Sherlock hates you with the way you torment him.” John snaps, turning his attention to Sherlock as he walks out the door. “Sh, sh, sh, baby, it’s alright. We’re not staying around that dickhead any longer. We’re gonna go home and get you all better. There, there, baby.”

With that, John flips off Mycroft, who’s still watching and laughing his ass off at John’s misery from his front entrance, and hails a cab home.

 


	10. Baby's New Routine

Back home at the flat of 221B once more, John carries the amazingly still bawling Sherlock into the flat and straps him into a high chair while he soaks some washcloths in cold water and throws them in the ice box. Mrs. Hudson knocks and enters.

“John, dear, whatever is the matter with Sherlock?” Mrs. Hudson asks, walking up to baby Sherlock, who’s seemingly throwing a temper tantrum in his high chair.

“He’s teething. Poor little guy hasn’t built up a pain tolerance yet so this must be excruciating.” John answers, pulling out a couple small containers of baby food that were amongst the items Mrs. Hudson had given him and a grabbing a bib. “Are you hungry, baby? You should be after throwing up on me earlier.”

“Threw up? Is he sick?” Mrs. Hudson questions, stroking a few unruly curls out of Sherlock’s eyes while John fastens the bib around the little one’s neck.

“No, it was actually my fault. I bounced him too much while I was trying to calm him down and he got an upset stomach that told my sweater it’s opinion.” John explains, opening the first container, dipping the baby spoon in and trying to convince Sherlock to eat. “Come on, baby, you’ll like it, I promise. Just take a bite, please.”

Sherlock turns his head away still bawling at the pain in his mouth.

“Well, let’s do this first.” Mrs. Hudson suggests, walking over to the ice box and taking out one of the smaller ice cubes, returning and cooing at Sherlock. “Let’s make it all better, baby. Try this.”

Mrs. Hudson manages to get the ice cube close enough to gently touch Sherlock’s inflamed gums. Feeling the cool relief, Sherlock settles down to whining and hiccuping, opening his little mouth wider as he leans towards Mrs. Hudson. She smiles, still cooing at Sherlock, gently and slowly rubbing the ice cube along his gums until she can no longer hold it properly. John smiles, amazed at his landlady’s cleverness and kindness as she drops the mostly melted ice cube in the sink.

“There, he should be all better for awhile. Just do that every time he gets fussy and it should do the trick. You can also rotate his dummies through the fridge or the ice box if you don’t feel like dealing with melting ice cubes.” Mrs. Hudson adds. “I best be getting back to my chores, though. Have a good afternoon, dears.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs. Hudson, I really appreciate it!” John responds before she closes the door with a little wave. “Now, are you ready to eat?”

Sherlock reaches out to John, opening and closing his tiny fists. John sets the baby food on the counter, picks baby Sherlock up and nestles him against his chest, rubbing the little one’s back and swaying a little. After a couple minutes of cuddling, John fastens Sherlock back into the high chair and picks up the jar and baby spoon back up. Sherlock leans forward and opens his mouth, whining a bit as he waits for his first bite.

“I’ll take that as a sign you’re ready to eat.” John says, chuckling as he puts the spoon in Sherlock’s mouth and the little one pretends to chew it up before swallowing. “There you go, baby. I told you it was good. Here comes some more.”

Sherlock behaves himself while he eats and eats fairly well, only spitting up a little bit from trying to eat too fast. John smiles and chuckles on and off at how serious Sherlock takes supper time- not to mention how upset he gets when he spits up on himself. As John feeds him the last bite of his food, Sherlock swallows it with a bite he hadn’t yet swallowed and spits both mouthfuls back up and onto his chin and bib. At the feeling of having spit up on himself, baby Sherlock begins to bawl, yanking at his bib to try to get it off.

“Sherlock, no-no! Don’t pull, Dada’s going to clean you up.” John gently scolds, wiping the spit up food from Sherlock’s face and unfastens the bib from around his tiny neck, laying it on the counter with the rag.

John unfastens Sherlock from the high chair and cuddles him to his chest, rubbing the little one’s back gently-earning a burp or two from the little one. After a minute or two, Sherlock calms down and turns in John’s arms to look for his blanket, spotting it on the couch by the door. Sherlock leans away from John, grabbing at the air between him and his blanket. By now, it is already 8 p.m. and Sherlock’s bedtime.

“Not yet, baby, let’s change your diaper and get you in your sleeper. Then Dada will get you your blanket.” John tells him, laying Sherlock on the blanket on the floor and unbuttoning his onesie. “Just give Dada two minutes to change and dress you for bed.”

“Mmmm! Eeeeheeeh!” Sherlock whines, squirming and trying to roll over and crawl away as John starts to unfasten his diaper.

“No you don’t, mister. You’re staying right here until I change your diaper and put your sleeper on you.” John says gently as he rolls Sherlock onto his back and gets the diaper off.

Sherlock continues to whine and squirm until John finally secures the clean diaper on and lets Sherlock crawl away while he goes to get a clean sleeper from the small dresser in the corner of the living room area. Baby Sherlock makes it over to the couch and pulls himself up by hanging onto the cushion, he snags his blanket and loses his grip on the couch cushion. He falls back and smacks his head on the coffee table once more, instantly bawling his little heart out as John closes the drawer and dashes over to the little one. John scoops the baby up into his arms and soothes him until he’s quiet again. The doctor examines Sherlock’s small head and finds no open wounds, just a sore spot on baby Sherlock’s head. He dresses Sherlock in the sleeper gown, this time a navy, lilac and white striped one with the bottom hem held closer with elastic.

“Dada…” Sherlock sniffles, clutching his blanket in one hand and his dada’s shirt in the other.

“What, baby? Dada’s right here.” John soothes, carrying the little one to his (John’s) room.

“Owie…” Sherlock sniffles once more.

“I know, baby. You want Dada to kiss it and make it all better?” John asks, waiting to set Sherlock down in the middle of the bed.

“Uh huh…” Baby Sherlock mumbles, burying his face in the curve of John’s neck as he winds his arms around his daddy’s arms.

John kisses the spot where Sherlock bumped his head and lays him down on the bed. He changes into his pajamas and slips out to the kitchen to grab one of the frozen rags. He returns, climbing into the bed, and cuddling Sherlock to his chest, gently holding the cloth to the sore spot on the little one’s head for a little while before tossing it on the night stand. John makes sure baby Sherlock is fully asleep before he allows his eyes to slam shut and finally allow him to get some sleep.


	11. The Visitor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess who comes for a visit- in the middle of the night?

The front door opens silently, the visitor skilled at slipping out of others’ notice. He looks around the flat; bags of diapers, bottles lining the counter, a cradle, a high chair, a hamper of tiny clothes, tiny shoes sitting on the coffee table, baby blankets strategically placed throughout, and various toys ranging from blocks to rattles to stuffed animals litter the place. So it is true, Sherlock Holmes is an infant. How… cute. And pathetic. He walks through the flat, glancing through each room until he comes across the doctor’s room. The door creaks open, splashing a little extra moonlight in the room. He walks around to the left side of the bed, facing the doctor and the baby Sherlock.

“Hello, Sherlock.” He greets, sitting on the bed and taking hold of the baby blanket, noting the soaked edge indicating the little one had been sucking on it. “Can’t imagine that tastes good.”

Sherlock stirs, noticing the absence of his blanket in his mouth and hand. The little one begins to whine, making the doctor soothe him while still half asleep. Baby Sherlock rubs at his eyes and looks around for his blanket, finally seeing it hanging above him.

“Looking for this, Sherlock?” The visitor questions, waving it in the air.

“Bangey!” Sherlock whines, reaching up for it and cringing when he sees the man holding it. “Waaaaaaaaaaahhh! DAH DAH! Aaaaaaahh!”

“Baby! What’s the matter? Are you hurt?” John questions, bolting awake and taking Sherlock in his arms.

“Awww, how sweet. How… ordinary.” The visitor comments tossing the blanket onto the doctor’s lap.

“JAMES MORIARTY!” John shouts, his anger radiating from him in waves as he jolts out of bed while Sherlock escalates to a screeching level. “Get the fuck out of my flat!”

“Well, technically it’s Sherlock’s flat, so it has to be him who says as much.” Moriarty replies, getting off the bed and watching John go to the end of the bed, backing towards the open door. “What is your opinion, Sherlock? Should I go?"

“Sherlock, baby, does this man need to go bye-bye?” John asks, panic still gripping him, hoping Sherlock can still answer him somehow.

“He guh buh buh!!” Sherlock sobs, clutching onto his caregiver.

Next door, Mrs. Hudson awakens, her motherly instincts perfectly tuned to know something is wrong, calls the police and runs next door after being assured officers are coming.

“John! Sherlock!” Mrs. Hudson calls out, looking about the flat for where the source of the crying, baby Sherlock, is.

“Oh, what a pleasant surprise, Mrs. Hudson’s joined our little visit.” Moriarty notes with a little smile as John backs up to stand by her. “Hello, Mrs. Hudson.”

“You! You terrible man! Get the hell off my property!” Mrs. Hudson shouts at him, her fists balled up as if she may be bold enough to punch him.

“I know you called the police, Mrs. Hudson and I assure you they won’t get me and even if they did, they can’t do anything to me.” Moriarty responds with a lazy shrug. “It’s like Sherlock once said, I’m not a man, I’m a spider.”

“Then get out before I poison you! You filthy creature!” Mrs. Hudson threatens, shaking with anger.

“Mrs. Hudson, this man is a criminal mastermind and he has nearly killed Sherlock and me numerous times- he likes to play and you’re feeding into him! Don’t challenge him!” John chastises, still trying to calm baby Sherlock.

“Well, I suppose I’ll be going now. I have a web to weave. Goodnight, John, Mrs. Hudson, and… Sherlock.” Moriarty says, yawning as if he were utterly bored. “Oh, and John, don’t let Molly give you anymore medications from Baskerville.”

With that, Moriarty walks out of the door, closing it softly behind him and footsteps are heard fading away.

“Sh, sh, sh, baby. Dada will make it all better.” John reassures baby Sherlock as he lays him down the blanket on the floor. “Sh, baby. It’s alright. He’s gone now. Bad man went bye bye..”

John lifts the elastic sleeper hem up and unfastens the diaper, finding quite the mess to clean up. Poor baby literally got the shit scared out of him. John opens the wipes and cleans Sherlock up, handing the dirty diaper to Mrs. Hudson who throws it away, still fuming and going on about how Moriarty had the audacity to break and enter. John pays no mind as he gets a clean diaper on Sherlock, pulls the sleeper back down and takes the sobbing baby back in his arms. After a few minutes, the police show up and rush inside, finding a terrified and angry John, a bawling baby Sherlock, and a pissed off Mrs. Hudson. Greg Lestrade crosses over to John to find out what happened.

“What happened, John?” Lestrade questions.

“I dunno. All I know is that I woke up to Sherlock- junior- bawling and I looked to see Moriarty sitting on the edge of my bed. Mrs. Hudson must’ve heard the commotion we made and called the Yard.” John explains, going over to the fridge and taking one of Sherlock’s pacifiers from the fridge and putting it in his mouth.

“Sherlock Junior?” Lestrade questions and shakes his head, not wanting to know. “Did he hurt either of you? Was anything done other than breaking and entering?”

“No, he just scared the shit out of us- literally when it comes to the little one.” John answers, rubbing baby Sherlock’s back while the little one anxiously sucks on his pacifier.

“More than I wanted to know, but okay. What did he want to do?”

“He had left a letter that said he was coming for a visit. He came here to make a point of telling us he knew!” John snaps.

“He knew what, John?” Lestrade asks.

“It’s a long story and you cannot tell anyone or the homicide rate will escalate beyond comprehension.” John warns and Lestrade nods in agreement.

John explains how he had drugged Sherlock with a sleeping medication and what’s ensued since then- especially that Moriarty knew that Baskerville had manufactured the drug that reversed Sherlock’s age.

“First off, I’m having a bit of trouble believing this, but knowing you and Holmes, I can imagine as much ensuing. Baskerville’s been pushing its limits for awhile I hear, especially since you two uncovered project H.O.U.N.D. They’ve stopped doing the lethal testing that had been happening before but they still do experiments and manufacture some peculiar drugs.” Lestrade responds.

“So I’ve noticed.” John comments, kissing baby Sherlock’s cheek as the little one wraps his arms around his Dada’s neck and buries his face in the nape of it. “It’s okay, baby. He went bye-bye and Dada’s got you.”

“Interesting dynamic you two have got there.” Lestrade comments, tucking his notepad in his jacket pocket, watching as the other officers escort Mrs. Hudson back to her flat to make sure Moriarty didn’t do anything to her things or decide to hide there.

“Waaaaaaahhh! Aaaahaaaaah!” Sherlock cries, spitting out his pacifier and squirming in John’s arms.

“Hey, sh, sh, sh. I know, baby. You’re tired. Dada will make you a ba-ba and get you tucked in again.” John soothes, putting one of the pre-made bottles in a pan of water and turning the burner on. “You try having your flatmate go through what mine is and then we’ll talk.”

“Fair enough. Well, I’ll leave you to put him back to bed and see if the boys found anything.” Lestrade says, patting John’s shoulder before leaving.

After precisely two minutes, John turns the burner off and takes the bottle out of the pan. John checks the temperature, finding it satisfactory, and goes back to his room. He climbs onto the bed, settling a little off from the center, lays baby Sherlock back, and puts the bottle in the little one’s mouth. After drinking the majority of the bottle, Sherlock is asleep. 


	12. Molly's Update

It is a month since Sherlock hit the one year old mark, but his aging has slowed since. John is holding the little one while he naps, taking his cell phone in hand and dialing his conspirator to check on the progress and confront her about the source of the substance he had used on Sherlock.

“Hello?” Molly answers, picking up after the fourth ring.

“Hi, Molly, it’s John.” He responds, carefully keeping his voice low.

“Oh, hi, John. I honestly am working on the cure but most of the combinations I’ve tried have had negative side effects… Like only being a temporary fix and one actually halted any chance of aging.” Molly explains with a sigh. “I’m so sorry, John. I feel awful…”

“Molly, I know you do and the lesson is that you shouldn’t trust anything from Baskerville.” John points out. “Besides, the one you need to apologize to is Sherlock.”

“You’re right- wait, how did you know any of it came from Baskerville?” Molly replies, sounding completely confused. “I never mentioned Baskerville when I told you about the two… I knew you would immediately disagree to trying it because of that and I knew that the one that’s been tested has no negative side effects as long as you don’t use other substances with it.”

“I know because Moriarty told me. He’s been watching us almost all the time.” John clarifies.

“John, I never ordered the youthening sleep aid because I knew it was untested… I contacted Baskerville and told them they didn’t label my samples correctly and they told me they didn’t even include the youthening sleep aid.” Molly explains, realizing she had gotten so caught up in trying to apologize that she forgot to fully update him.

“Bollocks. It can’t be. He can’t of even… Fuck.” John groans quietly into the phone, his frustration rising and causing him to tense, which awakens the sleeping baby Sherlock, causing him to cry.

“John? What is it? Is Sherlock okay?” Molly questions, starting to worry as she hears Sherlock crying through the phone.

“Moriarty has men everywhere- he knows how to manipulate anyone he wants. He did this. He just wanted to confirm it. There’s no other explanation. He’s planning something, Molly, and I’ve no idea what it is., but it has something to do with Sherlock.” John answers, calming himself and turning his attention to Sherlock. “Sh, baby, you’re alright. Dada’s okay. Just go back to sleep, love.”

“But why would he turn Sherlock into a baby?” Molly poses, not sure how that would fit into Moriarty’s plans. “Why wouldn’t he just, you know, get rid of Sherlock permanently.”

“Because he can do so much more if he has Sherlock. He knows that we can’t touch him if he has Sherlock because so many people look to Sherlock for help and the fact that you and I care about him and his brother is in such a high position. Sherlock is the key to making or breaking Moriarty’s plans. He’s not just wanting a challenge and an opponent anymore- he wants to cause hurt and damage.” John elaborates, realizing how much worse things have become. “I have to go. It’s supposed to be Sherlock’s nap time and I’m sure he needs changed right now.”

“Okay, tell him I say hi and give him a hug and kiss for me! I know he’d hate it if he were still himself so I want to get it in while he still doesn’t object.” Molly says. “Bye, John.”

“Bye, Molly.” John says.

The line goes dead and John puts his phone off to the side. He proceeds  to change Sherlock’s diaper and coo the little one back to sleep, singing him Ed Sheeran’s “Small Bump.”


	13. Sherlock Goes Bye-Bye - Unwillingly

A week passes after John realizes Moriarty’s plans and nothing happens. Moriarty seems as if he has forgotten all about Sherlock and his plan, though John knows better. Assuming Moriarty’s preoccupied, John decides to try giving the park one more go. Sherlock awakens from his after lunch nap, all smiles and giggles as he looks up to his Dada still holding him. The poor baby hasn’t slept well since Moriarty snuck into the flat.

“Dahdah!” Sherlock giggles, reaching up to John while stretching in his lilac onesie. “Mine!”

“Hi, baby! Yes, I am your dada.” John coos, rubbing the tip of his nose to Sherlock’s. “Do we need to change your diaper? Did you go potty during nap time?”

“Yucky!” Sherlock answers, his way of telling his Dada he needs his diaper changed.

John chuckles and carries Sherlock over to his changing blanket, laying the little one down and swiftly changing his diaper.

“Whewe go, Dahdah?” Sherlock asks, curious about what he would get to do with John today as he plays with his feet, wondering how far he could pull his foot before he couldn’t pull anymore.

“We’re going to the park, baby. Dada’s going to take you on the swings and down the slides. It will be lots of fun.” John answers, buttoning the snaps on Sherlock’s onesie and slipping a little pair of pants on him with a little gray sweater.

“Dahdah pway with me?” Sherlock asks, looking up at John and reaching for him.

“Of course, baby. Come here.” John replies, picking Sherlock up and lifting him up into the air and spinning him around for a minute before cuddling the little boy to his chest. “Was that fun, baby?”

“Yeah!” Sherlock giggles.

“Good. Now it’s time to have more fun and go to the park.” John tells him. “Is there anything you want Dahdah to bring with us?”

“Binky! I wan binky!” Sherlock says.

“Are your teeth still making owies, baby?” John asks, kissing Sherlock’s forehead as he walks over to the fridge and takes out one of the pacifiers.

“Mmmhmm…” Sherlock answers.

John puts the pacifier in Sherlock’s mouth and shoulders the diaper bag before grabbing the stroller and locking the doors. John tucks the diaper bag under the stroller seat, buckles Sherlock into the stroller, and pushes off towards the park. This time, John chooses a park with only one child and a lady who looks to be about his age. Sherlock watches the lady (Dada’s age, reddish brown and  shoulder length hair, simple skirt and blouse, slip on brown leather shoes, plain jewelry, no ring, obviously not the little boy on the playground’s mother- nanny maybe?) as John spreads out the blanket on the grass and unbuckles him from the stroller, sucking more anxiously on the pacifier.

“Come on, baby, let’s take you on the swings first.” John says, taking Sherlock’s hand as he kisses the little one’s cheek.

Sherlock toddles along in front of John, each of his hands holding each of John’s. He glances at the little boy (three years of age, brown hair, tan complexion, tee shirt and shorts, slightly worn tennis shoes) and wonders if the little boy would think him strange. John puts Sherlock in the baby swing and gives him small pushes, just high enough to reach John’s chest but low enough that it shouldn’t be scary or make baby Sherlock sick. Sherlock takes his pacifier out and holds onto it as he starts crying reaching out for John, who stops the swing and quickly takes the little boy into his arms.

“What’s the matter, baby? Are the swings too scary since you’re so little?” John asks, holding Sherlock to his chest and rubbing baby’s back.

“Swing’s no-no!” Sherlock sniffles.

“Do you want DahDah to go down the slide with you?” John asks, noticing baby calming down.

“Mmmhmm.” Sherlock responds.

John climbs the tiny equipment until he gets to the tallest slide and sits down with Sherlock in his lap.

“Ready, baby?” John asks and Sherlock nods, his pacifier in John’s jacket pocket. “Put your arms up as we go down.”

Sherlock holds John’s free hand, keeping both of his little hands up, as they go down with Sherlock giggling the whole way down.

“Was that fun, baby?” John asks, getting up from the bottom of the slide.

“Yeah!” Sherlock giggles.

Before John can move away from the bottom of the slide, the little boy comes sliding down and kicks John in the back of legs, making John stumble a bit before regaining his balance.

“Careful, buddy.” John says gently, turning to see the child blushing.

“I’m sowwy.” The little boy apologizes as the lady comes running over them.

“Danny! Be careful! You almost made him fall and that would have hurt the little boy he’s holding!” The lady gently scolds.

“Oh, it’s alright. He already apologized. I know it was an accident.” John assures her. “Besides, my baby’s not hurt, are you, baby?”

“Uh uh…” Sherlock says, not liking the looks of this lady.

“I’m glad. My name’s Mary.” She introduces herself. “And you’ve met my nephew Danny.”

“It’s nice to meet you both. My name is John and this little guy is Sherlock Junior, my foster child.” John responds. “Sherlock, do you wanna go play with Danny?”

Sherlock finds himself curious about the little boy and nods. John sets him down to go play but finds Sherlock grabbing his sleeve and opening his mouth.

“Do you want your binky, baby?” John asks,squatting down to Sherlock’s level.

“Mmmhmm…” Sherlock answers.

John puts the pacifier in Sherlock’s mouth, gives him hugs and kisses and watches him run around with Danny, who takes it easy on the newly toddling child, seeming to realize he has an advantage.

“So are you John Watson, Sherlock Holmes’ co-worker?” Mary asks as John stands back up.

“Yes, actually.” John answers, smiling like he doesn’t like to talk about it.

“Is that why you named your foster son Sherlock Junior?” She asks.

“It’s because the little one reminds me so much of Sherlock- I mean he looks just like him and yet I know Sherlock has never had children or even been with a woman.” John lies smoothly.

“Come this way! I have toys in Daddy’s car!” Danny says as Sherlock continues to toddle alongside him.

Sherlock huffs as he continues to suck on his pacifier while trying to keep up. Soon, the two come to a black car with one of the back doors open and a man tidying up kids’ toys in the back seat.

“Hi, daddy!” Danny calls, hugging his dad’s legs.

“Coming to get some toys to play with, squirt?” Danny’s dad teases, kissing his son’s forehead.

“Yeah! Me and my new fwiend need toys so we can pway more games. His name’s Shewlock too- just wike the guy on the tewe!” Danny says as Sherlock shyly toddles up to the pair.

“I see. Well, climb on in and grab what you want.” Danny’s dad encourages with an affectionate smile.

“Come on, Shewlock! Wet’s get toys!” Danny says, climbing in the car and helping Sherlock in the car.

After the two are in, Danny’s dad shuts the door and climbs in the car.

“I’m sorry, Danny, but we actually have to get going.” Danny’s dad says, starting the car.

Sherlock slides off the seat and falls on his bottom on the floor of the car and starts bawling, his pacifier in his lap.

“Daddy! His daddy’s hewe! He can’t go bye-bye with us!” Danny says.

“Well, Daddy has to bring him too.”

“But daddy, he’s cwying! He wants his daddy!”

“He’ll be just fine, Danny.” Another man speaks up, turning around in his seat and plucking Sherlock and his pacifier up from the floor of the car. “Won’t you, Sherlock?”

Sherlock looks up at the man holding him and bawls louder. This man is a bad man.


	14. John's Realization

John shakes his head and smiles at Mary’s joke and looks around for Sherlock. His smile immediately drops to a frown and his eyebrows furrow with worry.

“Where’s the boys?” John asks, snapping Mary out of her embarrassment.

“What? What do you mean? They’re right-” Mary responds, stopping as she looks about to see the park empty.

“SHERLOCK?!” John shouts, running to the trees behind the benches and looking to the other park. “Sherlock! Baby, answer Dada!”

“I’m sure they just went to my brother’s car. He said he was going to be cleaning it out while I watched Danny. Danny has a lot of his toys in the car… Maybe they just went to get some toys…” Mary suggests, starting to panic and not wanting to be responsible for losing Dr. Watson’s foster son.

“Oh my god!” John panics, rubbing his face as if he were waking up. “He better be. Where’s your brother’s car?”

Mary helps John pack up the stroller and leads him to the empty spot where her brother’s car had been parked.

“Oh shit…” Mary breathes, realizing she’s fucked up major.

“WHERE IS HE?!” John demands, turning to Mary in infuriated panic.

“They probably went back to my brother’s flat.” Mary says, praying like mad they did as John hails a cab.

A cab pulls over and the driver helps to put the stroller in the trunk. Mary directs the driver to her brother’s flat- five blocks from 221B Baker Street. They jump out of the cab, taking the stroller and diaper bag with them. Mary unlocks the door to her brother’s flat. They see Danny playing with his father, but no sign of Sherlock.

“Where is he?!” John demands, in no mood to be polite.

“Who?” Danny’s father asks, looking confused.

“My baby! Sherlock Junior! Where the hell is he? You took him!” John shouts, damn near ready to deck the man.

“I’ve no idea who you are or why you’re accusing me of taking your baby.” The man argues.

“Daddy, he’s-” Danny starts to explain but is cut off by his dad.

“He’s scaring you, isn’t he, buddy?” The man asks, taking the little boy in his arms. “It’s okay, buddy. I won’t let him hurt you.”

“Me? Me hurt him? Why would I? I would hurt you, sir, for abducting my baby!” John snaps as Mary places herself between the two men.

“The last time John saw Sherlock Junior, he was playing with Danny so naturally we thought you might’ve brought John’s little boy back here with you since Danny and your care were gone.” Mary explains.

“I only saw Danny and I would like him out of my flat.” The man replies, un-amused and thoroughly annoyed.

“I’m sorry, we just had to check first.” Mary apologizes, herding John out the door with her.

Outside, Mary looks at John, who may as well have steam rolling off him with his seething anger and lightening shooting off from his panic.

“I’m calling the Yard. I’m going home.” John states, taking off and pushing the stroller down the street, leaving Mary feeling terrible as she stands there in a stupor.

After returning to 221B Baker Street, John hauls the stroller inside and drops on the couch after bolting the door. He takes Sherlock’s “bangey” from the stroller and holds it up in front of him with tears welling in his eyes. He dials the Yard and Lestrade promises to rush over.

Within ten minutes, there’s a knock on the door. John answers with a blank expression and tears streaming down his face and the blanket clutched in his free hand.

“John, I’m sorry to hear about Sherlock going missing.” Greg Lestrade greets, patting John’s shoulder.

“He’s just a baby, Greg. A baby. He’s with Moriarty. I just know it. And it’s all. my. fault.” John cries, losing any composure he still had.

“John, he tricked you by having that little boy’s father do his dirty work. It’s not your fault. He’s a tricky bastard.” Lestrade reassures him, forcing him to sit down on the couch.

“I just know he’s scared to death. He probably wet himself. He’s probably still bawling his little eyes out and shaking like you can’t imagine. He’s probably screaming ‘dada’ and thinking I’ve abandoned him. Moriarty’s probably just dropped him in an empty room by himself just to torture the poor baby… He’s afraid of being alone, Greg.” John sobs,  burying his face in Sherlock’s baby blanket.

“We’ll find him, John.” Lestrade reassures him, rubbing his back.


	15. Meanwhile at Moriarty's

Meanwhile, at a seemingly harmless flat in the center of London, Moriarty rubs his temples, astonished and murderously frustrated with the fact that baby Sherlock is still screeching and crying in the small, empty bedroom with the door shut. He enters the room and stares down at the baby, lying on his back on a blanket covered air mattress, his little onesie and jeans darkened between the legs.

“I should have just put you in a coma instead of making you an infant. I thought it would be more fun to mess with you and watch you struggle as an infant.” Moriarty confesses.

Sherlock manages to reach a higher pitch and volume in his screeching as Moriarty continues to stand there so the sociopath leaves the baby, closing the door, and calls the lab technician he had toyed with.

“H-hello?” Molly answers nervously, unsure of who’s dialed her.

“Come to the address in the text that will be sent as soon as this call is over. Or listen to your friends and loved ones suffer.” Moriarty threatens, hanging up before she can say anything.

He texts the address to Molly’s phone and destroys the cheap, prepaid phone he had used to contact her.

After a half hour, a knock sounds on the door. Moriarty opens the door and finds Molly staring at him in shock and fear.

“Hello, love. It’s been awhile.” Jim Moriarty greets her, ushering her in and closing the door, enacting a security alarm with a code too fast for her to catch. “I still have your things here so you won’t be going home any time soon.”

“Is that Sherlock?!” Molly gasps, noticing the cries of a baby coming from a closed off room.

“Yes. Your task is tend to him- or be tied up and have to watch him suffer while his incompetent partner and those bumbling idiots at the Yard stumble around trying to figure out who took him and where.” Moriarty poses, opening the door. “All you should need is already here- I just don’t waste my genius and energy on caring for weak and pathetic people- such as Sherlock.”

“He’s got to have a diaper rash and he’s clearly scared and starving! How could you leave him like this, James!” Molly demands, outraged as she takes Sherlock in her arms and looks at him, horrified. “Sh, sh, it’s okay, Sherlock. I’ve got you.”

“How pathetic.” Moriarty comments as he walks away, shutting and locking the door.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” Molly sniffles, setting her purse to the side and laying Sherlock back down.

She undresses him and removes the thoroughly soiled diaper, wiping his rash-covered bottom and applying the proper cream. Sherlock whimpers,  pulling his legs up over his little tummy, and Molly slips a clean diaper under his bum and situates it before pulling the tabs to hold it in place. She dresses him in a little sleeper gown, rocking him in her arms as she puts one of the premade bottles in his tiny mouth.

“I’m so sorry, Sherlock. This is all my fault… If I hadn’t given John that powder, none of this would have happened.” Molly apologizes, tears sliding down her cheeks. 

After finishing two full bottles of formula, Sherlock falls asleep in Molly’s arms, clinging to her blouse. Molly remembers her phone and pulls it out of her purse.

“Damn! Of course he blocked the signal… I’ll just have to wait until he uses one of his phones. Even those cheap prepaid ones need signal to make contact…” Molly says, wrapping baby Sherlock in a blanket and leaning against the wall next to the air mattress.

After a week of being trapped in the master bedroom with its attached master bathroom- of course both are windowless- and caring for Sherlock, Moriarty unblocks the signal to make a call. Molly forwards the text with high priority and “S.O.S” attached. She quickly shuts off her phone and throws it back in her purse, going back to helping a sleepy baby Sherlock hold his bottle in his mouth.

“Are you ready to go home and see Dada?” Molly whispers, kissing Sherlock’s forehead.

“Mama… Wan Dada…” Sherlock sniffles sleepily.

“I know, Sherlock. I’ll get you home, I promise.” Molly assures him, rocking him in her arms. “Time to go to sleep, Sherlock.”

Sherlock yawns rather impressively and falls asleep in her arms after a few minutes more of being rocked.


	16. Curing Dr. Watson

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John hasn't been himself all week. Puffy eyes, dark circles, sleepless nights, and lonesome days. Finally, Molly and Lestrade have the cure for the doctor's ailment.

In Lestrade’s office, a depressed and lackluster John sits before the officer, his eyes glazed over in hopeless thoughts as Greg Lestrade continued on listing places that ended up being nothing more than hopeful thinking. Then, John’s phone goes off, playing a clip of Sherlock’s violin composition from before he broke two of the instrument’s strings. John snaps to attention and views the text he had gotten, an S.O.S. from Molly with an address and a picture of her and baby Sherlock on what looks to be an air mattress.

“Greg, shut up!” John snaps, turning his phone towards the surprised officer- this is the most John’s spoken since Lestrade had rushed to 221B to get the report of what happened and John broke down.

“Molly? How did she end up tangled up in this?” Lestrade questions, throwing his jacket on and following John out of the station while motioning for his usual crew to follow.

“She used to date Moriarty before she knew he was a right bastard. He probably sent her that address with a threat in case she didn’t show up.” John answers, picking up speed.

“Won’t Moriarty figure out what she’s done and move them?” Lestrade poses.

“No, Molly’s clever and there’s always the possibility that Moriarty’s grown bored with Sherlock since he’s barely a year old. Moriarty likes games and shit and Sherlock’s not at the intellectual capacity to play.” John explains, jumping in the passenger seat of Lestrade’s cruiser.

“Let’s hope you’re right, Watson.” Lestrade responds, speeding towards the center of the city with his lights flashing and at least two other squads following.

They arrive at the address, storming up the stairs with John in the lead. Without hesitation, the doctor kicks down the door and rushes in, allowing the Yard to shut off the security alarm.

“Molly? Sherlock?!” John calls.

“In here, Dr. Watson!” Molly calls from behind the first closed door to his right in the narrow hallway.

Not bothering to undo the locks (it would take more time than John cared to spend), John kicks open the door and rushes to baby Sherlock, who is now crying for his Dada.

“Oh god, baby, I’m here. I’m finally here. Dada’s so sorry. I will never take my eyes off of you again. You’re never going out of my reach. That’s a promise.” John sobs, hot tears streaming down his face as he holds his baby to his chest.

“I’m so sorry, John. If it weren’t for me, he never would have been in this mess.” Molly cries, her hands clutching her purse like a snake around its prey.

“That doesn’t matter right now. All that matters is you got him back to me and you’re safe.” John dismisses, getting to his feet and cradling Sherlock in his arms, allowing the little one to suck on Dada’s thumb. “I don’t know about you, but I’m going home and locking every point of entry and arming myself.”

“I’m tempted to do the same, but I think James has had enough of me.” Molly sniffles.

“Thanks again, Molly.” John smiles for the first time in a week.

“Bah bah…” Sherlock sniffles as his little tummy growls.

“Dada’s gonna take you home, baby. Then we’ll get you fed, bathed, changed, and cuddled until you can’t stand Dada anymore.” John promises, walking out of the flat while bouncing baby Sherlock in his arms.


	17. Bringing Baby Home

Back at 221B, John closes and bolts the door shut. Sherlock is fast asleep in John’s arms, stirring a couple times to find his pacifier. John lays Sherlock down on the plush bath mat in the bathroom and undresses him, undoing the tabs on the diaper and cleaning his bottom, noticing the rash that was beginning to fade away. Baby Sherlock awakens to the cool air on his bum and the chill all over his body before a warm sensation crawls across him as John picks him up and holds him close while running the bath water. After a couple minutes, John turns the faucet off and lays Sherlock down while he strips out of his own clothes. Sherlock starts to cry as he loses the warmth and comfort of John holding him.

“Sh, baby, Dada’s here. I only set you down for a moment so Dada could get undressed to get in the tub with you. Sh, baby, you’re not alone, Dada’s got you.” John soothes, carefully and slowly sliding into the barely warmer than lukewarm water.

John goes through the bath routine as quickly and carefully as possibly as Sherlock continues to cry- the poor baby can barely keep himself awake unless he’s crying. John wonders if Molly hadn’t had the right soaps to clean the rash with… She apparently had the right cream since the rash is waning. As John shifts Sherlock to face his chest so he can properly wash the rash, Sherlock instinctually latches on to John’s nipple until John pulls him away, flinching from the pain of baby Sherlock’s few teeth biting him.

“Oi, Sherlock, baby, Dada can’t feed you like that.” John gently chastises, using his free hand to massage the punctured skin.

Sherlock starts to bawl so John quickly finishes the bath and wraps a towel around himself and then one around Sherlock. He carries the little one over to his changing blanket and puts a diaper on him. John holds baby Sherlock in his arms while he goes back to the bedroom and gets dressed in his pajamas, swaddling the little one in his “bangey.” All the while, Sherlock continues to bawl, causing Mrs. Hudson to start knocking insistently on the door until John lets her in.

“Oh, John, dear! I am so glad to see him home safe with you!” Mrs. Hudson gushes.

“I can’t even express how I feel about it all… I guess I’d rather leave it at being glad he’s home too.” John says, situating Sherlock to rest his head on John’s shoulder. “Sh, baby, Dada’s going to make you a bottle and we’ll eat some real food in the morning.”

John goes to the kitchen and starts to make a bottle of formula for Sherlock until Mrs. Hudson takes over and has him get Sherlock dressed in his lavender onesie. After a few minutes, John is feeding Sherlock, who can barely keep his tired little eyes open, and trying to stay awake to talk with Mrs. Hudson. After two hours of chatting and updating, Mrs. Hudson finally notices John struggling to stay awake while holding his sleeping baby flatmate.

“Well, dear, I suggest that you get to bed now. I’ll be sure to lock your door good and tight and arm the security system. Get some sleep and make sure little Sherlock does too.” Mrs. Hudson advises, standing up and kissing John’s cheek before leaving and locking the door on her way.

John Watson sighs contentedly and hauls himself out of Sherlock’s favorite chair. He drags his feet all the way to bed, where he climbs in between the sheets and continues to hold Sherlock to his chest.

“I’m never letting you out of my reach again. When you’re a big boy, all grown up, if you try to go anywhere without me and without telling me, I will kick your ass.” John murmurs, already half asleep as he kisses Sherlock’s forehead and cuddles the little one to his chest.


	18. His New Ex-Girlfriend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just when John thought he'd be rid of a certain man for a time, said man's latest ex comes comes knocking on the door to 221B.

The next day, John wakes up to a familiar unpleasant smell and all-too familiar cries. Sherlock has definitely made a mess in his diaper and intent on making John so aware that he can practically feel the poor baby’s discomfort.

“Hey, sh, you’re okay, baby. Daddy will change you now.” John soothes, taking Sherlock in his arms and carrying him to his changing blanket in the living room.

After changing little Sherlock and putting the little one in his high chair, John calls Mycroft while putting a bib on the fussy baby boy.

“Hello, Mycroft speaking.” The older Holmes answers.

“Mycroft, it’s John.” The doctor states, holding the phone between his shoulder and the side of his face, using both hands to open a jar of baby food as Sherlock starts whining, practically crying. “None of that now, baby. I’m trying to get you fed, don’t you worry.”

“My, someone sounds fussy this morning.” Mycroft responds.

“We had a rough night since it was Sherlock’s first night back. Kidnapping is hard on a baby’s psyche after all.” John bitterly remarks, giving Sherlock a spoonful of pureed mixed vegetables.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t of any help, John.” Mycroft apologizes. “What’s on your mind?”

“Exactly that- you weren’t any help and yet I know you knew where Moriarty’s various locations are.” John answers flatly, continuing to feed Sherlock.

“What was I supposed to do, John?” Mycroft questions with mock incredulity.

“How about giving us a list and then we could only check those locations instead of investigating the entire damn city.” John suggests in a very irritated tone as Sherlock turns his face away and starts crying. “Oh jeez, I’m sorry, baby. Come see daddy.”

“How was that going to help? Then you would have had to confront the fiend and he might’ve blown your heads off or killed Sherlock and your little girl friend.” Mycroft counters as John takes Sherlock out of the high chair and cuddles him, aiming the speaker towards the crying child. “John Hamish Watson! Hold the phone _away_ from the crying child! For Christ’s sake!”

John does one better and hangs up the phone. Sherlock finally calms down and sucks on his thumb while resting his head against his daddy’s shoulder.

“I think we need to get some more food in that little tummy of yours.” John says, attempting to pry Sherlock off and put him back in his high chair, making Sherlock whine and tighten his grip. “Alright, how about daddy sits down with you and feeds you that way?”

Sherlock simply buries his face in John’s shoulder, clearly still upset and almost as tired.

“Baby, what does daddy need to do for you?” John asks, kissing Sherlock’s forehead as the little one’s tummy growls ferociously. “I’ll take that as daddy needs to feed you.”

John grabs the jar and spoon and sits down in Sherlock’s favorite lounge chair. He sets the little one on his lap, John’s left arm around Sherlock’s small body and right hand holding the jar while the left hand attempts feed Sherlock. The toddler turns his head away and starts bawling, signaling to John that the poor baby boy is no longer in the mood to eat. Against his own instincts, John sets the spoon and jar on the side table and turns his attention back to his baby flatmate.

“Baby, I don’t know what you want…” John admits, cuddling the amazingly sweet Sherlock to his chest and gently rubbing his tiny back.

“Baba… nigh nigh…” Sherlock sniffles, clinging to John.

“But a baba isn’t enough food for your growing tummy… Maybe we just need to lay you back down and feed you afterward.” John disagrees, watching as Sherlock starts do his little watery-eyed pout that he usually does before screeching and crying like Moriarty got him. “Okay, okay, daddy gets it. Baba and nigh night time."

John gets up, keeping his itty bitty Sherlock in his arms, walking to the kitchen, grabbing a bottle, adding two scoops of formula, filling it with water, shaking it until its mixed, and warming it (for exactly two minutes or the picky little boy won’t drink it). Sherlock wiggles about a bit, trying to grab the bottle, while John settles in on the couch, wrapping the little one up in his favorite blanket.  Sherlock immediately starts drinking and John smiles, shaking his head- still not quite believing this is the same flatmate that used him like a lab rat in Baskerville. After a half hour, Sherlock finishes off the bottle with a little burp and yawns as his little eyes slam shut. Dr. Watson breathes a sigh of relief and allows himself to start doze after glancing at the clock- 8.30 am.

John Watson startles awake as a knock resounds on the door to the flat. Mrs. Hudson would have announced herself by calling ‘John, dear’ or something of the like. Sherlock immediately starts bawling in protest- pissing John off instantly. John pushes himself, Sherlock still in his arms- both still in their pajamas, up off the couch and checks for the identity of the mysterious visitor through the peep hole. Surprised by the lovely and young woman on the other side, he opens the door.

“Hi, sorry! Um, I had not intended to bother you, but um, I’m a friend of Molly’s and she had told me to see you if I ever needed help…” The young woman explains, seeming a bit surprised and startled that someone actually answered. “Awww! He’s so precious! Oh, crud, did I wake him?”

“Yeah, but it’s alright. He wasn’t really asleep yet, he’s just kind of fussy, I’m sure you read the article in the paper…” John replies, ushering her in.

“Yes, it broke my heart- Molly told me everything.” The young woman winces after responding. “I wasn’t supposed to tell you that…”

“It’s alright. It’s not like the media doesn’t already do it.” John dismisses, trying to calm Sherlock as the young woman takes her black waist-length pea-coat off and lays it over the back of one of the armchairs. “Hey, sh, it’s alright.”

“May I?” She asks, extending her arms.

“I suppose.” John allows, putting Sherlock in her arms.

“Hi Sherlock!” She coos at him, brushing a few wild curls away from his watery eyes as he calms to a sniffle. “You have the best daddy ever, you know that?”

She tickles Sherlock and he giggles wildly.

“All better!” She chimes, blowing kisses on his cheek and making him giggle even more before attempting to hand him back to John.

“Mine!” Sherlock whines, latching onto her music note scarf.

“Wow, I’ve never seen him attach to someone else like that before. You’ve really got a magic touch, Miss…. What did you say your name was?” John comments, watching the two and crossing his arms over his chest as he contemplates the new development.

“I didn’t… My name’s Lily Melody Rose. Odd name, I know.” She answers, tickling Sherlock again, though this time the little one whines, rubbing his eyes. “Awww, poor baby! So tired!”

Lily starts to sway, laying Sherlock back in her arms as she spies his pacifier sitting on the coffee table. Lily slowly makes her way over to the coffee table, picks up the pacifier while smiling awkwardly at John, and slips it into Sherlock’s mouth.

“There, now we’re all better and ready for the bestest nigh nigh time ever!” Lily coos at the little former detective, continuing to sway as Sherlock settles into a rhythm of sucking on his pacifier while burrowing into her scarf and grabbing her shirt.

“Do you have kids?” John asks, sitting in his armchair near the fireplace.

“Oh, no, no no! I love kids with a passion, but I can’t find a boyfriend that isn’t an ass, hence why I need your help…” Lily admits in a quiet voice as she settles in Sherlock’s favorite armchair.

“You do know we’re not a dating service right?” John clarifies, shooting her a confused and uncertain look.

“I mean- I know that… My problem is with my latest ex… Guess who.” Lily stammers, attempting to explain.

“Some ruddy arsehole who drinks and smokes? Or…” John considers her for a moment- she looks like some punk- hipster as the kids were calling the look these days with her black-brown hair choppily layered, a dark plum beanie slouching on her head, a stud in her nose, ears with tiny gages, squared and nerdy-looking glasses, short dress, leggings, slouchy boots, a little sweater-thing with holes (woven or extremely worn, he had no clue), a bunch of rings on both hands, and that giant flouncy infinity scarf (or so he assumes since it didn’t seem to have a definite end to it). “Some lazy, pot-smoking hipster?”

“Hahaha, very funny, Dr. Watson.” She rolled her electric blue eyes- eyes that looked very much like those of the little Sherlock in her arms- and shook her head. “Try James. Or Jim I guess he goes by more often.”

“Okay and what sort of bloke is he?’ John questions. “You can call me John by the way.”

“Bisexual, though completely homosexual for one Sherlock Holmes. Ring a bell, John?” Lily questions, smiling as she notices the look on his face, one of recognition and murder- a look that screams something along the lines of every swear in the universe strung into one phrase to describe said man.


	19. Unweaving the Web

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock gets attached to their new ally while John dreads the new opportunities to embarrass himself, while relishing in the opportunity to get some new information on the duo's arch nemesis.

“I’m straight- you do know that? And I’ve never met you before now.” John argues, keeping his voice down, only able to think of the fact that everyone seems to think he’s in love Sherlock and not straight no matter what he himself has to say on the matter.

“I know on both accounts, John Watson. I was referring to James Moriarty.” Lily corrects, rolling her eyes with a sigh- the very name leaves a bad taste in her mouth.

“What is it about that git that attracts you and Molly to him?” John questions, seeming genuinely confused. “I mean, Sherlock was right in calling that man a spider, but how do none of you see that?”

“Spiders make pretty webs of shiny silk that reflect light in brilliant ways. Even the most clever bug can fall victim to such pretty designs disguised as traps- surely Sherlock has made a point of that.” Lily answers with a disgusted frown on her face and a gleam of pure malice in her eyes as she continues to cradle the little detective in her arms. “After all, before all this he was hell bent on burning every web and crushing anything that looked like a spider.” 

“You’re right on that- the man would murder to have gotten a hold of Moriarty and killed him himself. Moriarty ruined Sherlock’s life- which was miserable to start with.” John agrees, a deep frown on his tired face. “But what did Moriarty do to you to drive you to us when you already know about Sherlock’s… well, disadvantage.”

“My first concern is that he stole several possessions that are very dear to me and worth quite a bit. The second, I confess is rather embarrassing…” Lily explains, a pale rosy blush creeping up her neck to her cheeks.

“Well let’s start with the first, what did he steal from you?” 

“My grandmother’s rings for starters. Her diamond engagement ring, a Black Hills Gold ring, and a couple others that contain precious stones, including my Claddagh ring from a very special person.” Lily elaborates, her blush growing to an almost scarlet color.

“Okay… So what is the second issue?” John questions.

“What he’s done to Sherlock…” Lily confesses, looking quite miserable and ashamed at the confession.

“Why is that every woman I encounter is either in love with the psychopath or the sociopath? Why can’t I get a date this easy without being used?” John wonders aloud, leaning forward and burying his face in his hands as he sighs. “Alright, well you’ve definitely got a case against the prick, but what am I supposed to do?”

“Help Lestrade. I have information that none of you have- Molly doesn’t even know some of the things I know!” Lily assures him. 

“You couldn’t possibly know more than Mycroft though.” John states, though with the lack of certainty in his voice it sounds more like a question as he warily looks up at her.  
“But Mycroft won’t open that condescending trap of his, will he?” Lily challenges, lowering her voice a bit as Sherlock whines a bit in his sleep, curling in towards her.

“No, he won’t. He wouldn’t even give up a hint of what he knows to get Sherlock back.” John admits, feeling the verbal salt being rubbed in his emotional wounds.

“So help me. If you help me then I can help you and Sherlock.” Lily gently pushes. “If you will go help Lestrade, I can watch Sherlock and do some up-keep on your flat while you’re gone. I used to clean bachelor pads for a living and I love little ones.”

“I’ll think about it.” John offers, finding a few questions nagging at him. “Why did Moriarty take your rings?”

“Well, the price that some people would pay for my rings is pretty high and he was always jealous of the Claddagh ring…” Lily supplies, looking as if she herself doesn’t quite know why the psychopath would do such a trivial (for his standards) thing.

“And why is this moron jealous of a ring?” John questions, confused by the statement.

“More because of who it was from than what it was.” Lily explains, her blush returning in all its crimson glory.

“Who was it from?”

“Do I really have to spell it out for you?”

“It would make this go a lot faster, yeah.” John encourages, clearly not understanding why it’s such a big deal.

“It’s from Sherlock, John. Though, I’m certain he didn’t understand what it meant to give a woman a Claddagh ring.” Lily explains with a huff.

“And what does it mean exactly?” John pushes, unsure of whether he actually wants to know the answer to this one.

“Well, usually in Scottish and Irish culture, it’s a symbol of devotion- not that far from the kind of symbolic gesture of a traditional engagement ring.” Lily sighs, looking down at the tiny version of the man who gave her such a traditionally binding gift.

“Yeah, I would say he had no idea what he was doing when he gave you that.” John agrees, giving her a look that seems to say ‘but what can you do’ before another question strikes him. “When did Sherlock give you that ring?” 

“Not long before the Reichenbach Fall. He broke my heart that day, not unlike how he did it to you when you had to watch.” Lily admits. “Oh, I nearly stabbed him when he showed up at my door before he returned to this flat.”

“That makes two of us. If I hadn’t been so shocked, I would’ve beat the daylight out of him.” John chuckles, remembering how his flatmate had shown up at the restaurant posed as a waiter while he was on a date with his former Mary. “Jesus Christ, I think I have a thing for women named Mary.”

“Well I apparently have a thing for terrible people- before James, I actually dated a legitimate drug dealer without even realizing it until two days before I left the idiot.” Lily laughs quietly with John. “I’m guessing you met Mary Bellevont?”

“Yeah, how did you… Oh god, is she one of Moriarty’s?” John asks, even more afraid to know the answer.

“Yes and no. She gets used by him quite often, but she has no idea he’s behind any of the situations she’s been in- her brother is one of James’ goons however- no doubt you met him.”

“Oh I met him alright, almost broke his nose in front of his son.” 

“That’s not his son, though. The little guy is Mary’s, but she pretends he’s her nephew around other people because she’s desperate for a shag almost as much as a relationship and her son believes she’s his aunt.” Lily explains. “Mary’s brother is Gerald Bellevont. Gerald finds it convenient to use Danny to his advantage. Makes him look like a good guy, though he actually does care for the little guy, which is how James keeps the man in line.”

“How do you know all this?” John questions, trying to make sure he keeps all this handy for his next visit with Lestrade.

“John, James trusted me and was convinced I was on his side- that I would do anything for him and keep any secrets he had, plus the daft man just loved to gloat since he erases just about any connections he makes. If I didn’t know any better I’d say he was cannibal and literally ate his minions.” Lily points out, shuddering a bit at the thought.

John and Lily continue to discuss their hatred of Moriarty for the better part of the morning. Lily sharing all of Moriarty’s nasty little secrets, his reactions when things went poorly, or Sherlock had ignored him, while John adds Sherlock’s side of the same stories. The two getting a huge sigh of relief from knowing Sherlock was certainly nothing like James Moriarty. Around noon, Sherlock begins to stir, making his presence remembered first with a quiet whimper that turns into quite the fuss.

“Sh, sweetie, it’s okay. I’m gonna change you while Daddy gets you some food ready and then we can play while Daddy talks to Uncle Greg, yes, we can.” Lily soothes, laying Sherlock down on his changing blanket next to the coffee table on the floor where the bin of changing supplies is already sitting nearby from the early morning diaper change.

John takes his cue to go ahead get Sherlock’s lunch ready and re-heating some Italian take out from a couple nights ago for himself. Lily, meanwhile, changes Sherlock out of his soiled diaper, cleaning him up and putting him in a clean diaper and dressing him again before taking him back in her arms. Little Sherlock reaches for the shiny fake stone in her nose, finding it an odd place to see such a thing and intent on correct what seems like mistake to the little one.

“Ah-ha! I don’t think so, Mister!” Lily coos at the curious toddler in her arms as she intercepts his tiny hand. “That has to stay there unless you want me to have an owie.”

Thinking about this, Sherlock realizes he doesn’t want her to have an owie, knowing how much they hurt from experience and so he grabs her scarf instead, finding it smooth and soft in his delicate little fingers.

“Sherlock, baby, come see daddy!” John encourages reaching out to take his temporary little boy from their new client, friend, and colleague. 

“My mama!” Sherlock whines, holding onto Lily’s scarf and dress- right on the breast, John notices with a sense of dread, hoping she wouldn’t react negatively to the little boy grabbing her there.

“Well, I suppose you’re the new nanny, yeah?” John suggests with a nervous laugh.

“I think I’d like that. And you can stop staring at my breasts, I know they’re comically small and all, but still, a little decency, John.” Lily teases in a somewhat flat tone.

“I- I swear I wasn’t-“ John tries to defend, giving up with a sigh.

Things are certainly getting interesting in 221B.


End file.
